I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

four-cornered.

Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful

In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

I have looked at it so long I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.

Sylvia Plath

Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

I am silver and exact.

I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.

Mirror

Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.

Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.

Now I am a lake.

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions

meditate

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes.

The eye of a little god

I am not cruel, only truthful

Whatever I see I swallow immediately

I am not cruel, only truthful

preconceptions.

Where errors were not lessened (all may judg)

Made thee in raggs, halting to th’ press to trudge, Where errors were not lessened (all may judg).

I stretched thy joynts to make thee even feet, Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet

Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth didst by my side remain, Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, Who thee abroad, expos’d to publick view, Made thee in raggs, halting to th’ press to trudge, Where errors were not lessened (all may judg). At thy return my blushing was not small, My rambling brat (in print) should mother call, I cast thee by as one unfit for light, Thy Visage was so irksome in my sight; Yet being mine own, at length affection would Thy blemishes amend, if so I could: I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw, And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw. I stretched thy joynts to make thee even feet, Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet; In better dress to trim thee was my mind, But nought save home-spun Cloth, i’ th’ house I find. In this array ’mongst Vulgars mayst thou roam. In Criticks hands, beware thou dost not come; And take thy way where yet thou art not known, If for thy Father askt, say, thou hadst none: And for thy Mother, she alas is poor, Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.

ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth didst by my side remain,

Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, Who thee abroad, expos’d to publick view

trudge

Yet being mine own, at length affection would

Thy Visage was so irksome in my sight

feeble

I stretched thy joynts to make thee even feet, Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;

I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw, And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.

Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true

And for thy Mother, she alas is poor, Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.

The Author to Her Book

In Criticks hands, beware thou dost not come; And take thy way where yet thou art not known,

In Criticks hands, beware thou dost not come;

I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw, And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw

Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,

Thy blemishes amend, if so I could: I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw, And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.

Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, Who thee abroad, expos’d to publick view,

Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth didst by my side remain,

Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,

Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,